Simple Touch
by WickedSong
Summary: "Well, all I'm saying is that in all the stories the heroes go out in a blaze of glory; like saving someone's life or during a big final battle?" She looks around their surroundings. "Not in some shady alleyway in New York City."
1. Part I

**Simple Touch**

**Written by WickedSong.**

**Disclaimer/Note: I do not own AoS. So, ever since I did that Fitzsimmons oneshot that had multiple people asking me 'why', I thought I might want to try the same sort of idea (but also different) and this time with Skyeward. I hadn't really had any general ideas up until I saw a particular piece of fanart on tumblr that inspired me. It's by a really talented artist, astridv, and I would link the post if I could but I can't (I didn't realise it didn't let you link anymore in the stories, oops), so it'll be on my profile page and I would insist you go look at it either before or after reading the fic because it really is quite emotive. Also this is a twoshot so the second part should be up by next weekend.**

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"You do know this would be a totally lame way to die?"

Skye says this in a voice that she hopes makes it sound like she's totally in control of the situation. Her main focus is keeping the conversation light, making sure he knows that everything will be fine and that he is not by any means allowed to close his eyes right now.

Grant Ward just groans at this but keeps up with the teasing in her tone, so she doesn't see that it _hurts_. "I don't know what's worse; the fact I've been shot or your attempt at humour."

Skye gives a derisive snort, keeping the cloth she ripped from the bottom of her shirt close to the bullet wound on his shoulder. "Well, all I'm saying is that in all the stories the heroes go out in a blaze of glory; like saving someone's life or during a big final battle?" She looks around their surroundings. "Not in some shady alleyway in New York City."

"You really think I'm a hero? I'm…_touched_," he mocks once more, one more dig just to prove everything's fine, he's okay. There's a stab of pain in his shoulder that causes him to grimace and he catches the façade she was hiding her worry behind slip away.

Or at least that's what he thinks he sees in her eyes because everything's going a bit blurry and it's hard to keep his focus, his eyelids wavering. Soon enough, Skye is shaking him slightly. "Wake up or else I'll make you walk to the BUS when the rest of the team gets here."

She wouldn't really but she has to say _something_.

"Some SHIELD agent you are. Can't even handle a graze," she teases gently as she places more pressure on the wound. No matter how much she does this, though, it just won't stop bleeding,_ why won't it stop bleeding?_

Her hands are a little red and stained with his blood. They're also shaking a little (a _lot_) but she continues on as she has been doing since Ward was shot fifteen minutes ago by some guy with information about the latest in the long line of super-powered they were chasing. Anxiously she peers down the alleyway to find that help has not yet arrived, and twists her lip trying to think of any way to keep the conversation going just so that he won't close his eyes.

That's how the bickering started. She should've figured they'd still do that, even under circumstances like this.

His eyes open, slowly but surely and she lets out a breath she wasn't even sure she was holding. "Hey there sleepyhead," she says with a soft smile and soft voice and she realises as she does it that she's not keeping enough pressure on the wound.

_Focus, Skye, focus._

She keeps her eyes focused on his but straightens up a little. She rips another piece of cloth from her shirt, and discards the used up one by her side. Quickly she presses it to his shoulder. She hears his breath come in a little shallower, a little slower. It doesn't mean anything though, it doesn't. The team will be here soon and it won't matter, it _won't._

"You okay?"

It's quiet but it's a voice and it tells her that he's still breathing. It's enough.

She nods, but realises he can't really see her from the way they're positioned. She's behind him, his head in her lap and she's using the cloth to stop the blood – _why is there so much blood_? She doesn't know an awful lot about the human body but she's sure there shouldn't be this much blood in one person.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she tells him. She had a graze on her shoulder from falling into a wall during the chase, but she had patched that up quickly enough on her own before tending to Ward with the admittedly little first aid she knew. Living in an orphanage for all those years, kids would get into scrapes and fights. She was one of the oldest so she'd always be there to patch them up. It didn't really prepare her for this but it's something, and that _something_ keeps him alive more than _nothing _could_._

He gives a sigh, and she notices him blinking furiously. "Still think I'm a robot now?"

She gives a smile despite the situation, wondering how he's getting the strength to even try to bring that up. "Pretty sure this is just oil that looks like blood, buddy." She's joking and telling herself things like that because she doesn't like the alternative very much.

She hears him slightly chuckle at this. Leaning forward a little more, so that her hair almost touches his face, and she's looking straight at him, she adds, "The team's going to be here soon, Grant, I promise," she says quietly.

Maybe it's the loss of blood going to his head but he manages to tilt his head just enough so he's looking up at her. Initially he just nods and he looks so pale and so unlike her SO, it scares her beyond belief. She thinks he doesn't have the strength to say anything else but he surprises her once more. "I like that…when you call me Grant."

She blinks back the tears but she's determined not to cry in front of him, and straightens herself once more. "Don't you go getting all sappy on me now, SO. There's plenty of time for that crap when you're better." But she likes that _crap, _something that she's not going to admit while he might be bleeding out in her arms, a thought she just can't afford right now. She's running through all the possibilities in her head, and instinctively runs one hand through his hair in a soothing motion, the other still clutching at the cloth over his shoulder. When she feels extra pressure on her hand she looks down to find his hand over hers and she's never realised before that moment how calming one simple touch can be.


	2. Part II

**Simple Touch,**

**Written by WickedSong.**

**Disclaimer/Note: Still don't own AoS, dammit. So this is a little earlier than I planned because I had the idea in my head and it was just a case of finding the right words, which hopefully I did. And also I had the second of my three exams today and it went really well so I felt like I could justify doing this, as opposed to studying for an extra hour or so tonight. Thank you so much for the lovely comments on the first part and I hope you enjoy the concluding part.**

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He wakes up, feeling fuzzy and disorientated and not quite sure where he is. From what he can tell he's on a bed and the room – at least he assumes it's a room – smells like disinfectant. A soft humming sound is coming from beside him and he turns his head closer in that direction – he likes the sound of it, that's all.

When he finally feels up to it, after what feels like hours but was probably only minutes, he opens his eyes; with difficulty at first but the more he tries the easier it gets. He can feel pain in his left shoulder, and that's when things get a little less fuzzy. He remembers the bullet hitting him, he remembers Skye trying to keep him awake and then…nothing. He had faded in and out of consciousness, but he was still here and that was all that mattered.

The humming continues and when his eyes are open – his vision still a little compromised – he can see the source of it is Skye, sitting in the chair beside the bed, looking straight at him and smiling.

"Batteries recharged?"

She's joking, like she usually does, especially with him, but he can see the relief flash in her eyes immediately.

He nods, and the pain in his shoulder shoots through him. It's not as pronounced as it was when he was bleeding out in an alleyway in New York City but it's still there and he figures it will be a while yet.

He goes to ask her a question but realises his throat is dry and scratchy, so much so that it doesn't really come out coherent at all.

Skye picks up on this and stands from the chair, crossing over to the sink at the side of the room, in what Ward can now see is a SHIELD medical facility, he can only assume is in New York itself. She returns a moment later with a glass of water and he takes it from her gratefully, saying a wordless thank you.

She nods in return.

"You've been out for about a day, by the way," she answers to his question that remained unasked. "You lost a lot of blood but they managed to-well, you're still here, right?"

She averts her gaze from him, and he feels like doing the same. He places the glass on the table beside him after a few moments of awkward silence passes between them. Giving a small cough he feels his voice return to him. "So that song you were humming," he almost cringes at how weak it still sounds to him but he continues on, "it sounded familiar."

It's a lame attempt at trying to start a conversation but it's all he can really think of. For a moment he wonders where the rest of the team are but Skye looks at him and the moment passes.

"Just one that I learned growing up," she answers. "I don't know if it has words?" She laughs to herself.

He nods. "Must just be familiar then," he muses quietly.

Before he can think about the lull in the conversation she jumps right into another topic and it's like there was no silence there before.

_Don't you ever get tired of hearing your own voice?!_

He winces slightly thinking that it's _such_ a _great_ time to remember _that_ moment.

"May and Coulson showed up a couple of minutes after you passed out," she's telling him and so he focuses on that instead of the sharp throbbing that's persisting in his shoulder. "Hey are you okay?" she asks, obviously sensing his discomfort.

"You try being shot and then I'll ask you, how about that?"

But he doesn't particularly like the idea of her being shot.

"Fancy SHIELD digs, and a room all to yourself?" She sits back in the chair with her arms folded behind her head, letting out a contented sigh. "Sounds like a _blast_."

He groans, and not from the pain. "Was that supposed to be a _pun_?"

She shrugs in response, but smiles. Even smiling though, she looks tired.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asks, finally noting the way her eyelids keep drooping whenever she thinks he's not looking.

She shakes her head. "It doesn't matter." She smirk and adds, "Don't worry; I didn't lose any sleep over the _invincible_ Agent Grant Ward."

He has to wonder if he's imagining her voice masking something else; something deeper.

But he doesn't ask, doesn't think it's really the time or place to do so.

She stands from the chair and goes to leave the room. "Where are you going?" he asks, looking towards the door.

"I was going to tell the others you were up. Why?"

He gives a slight cough, tries to wonder how to phrase his next words without it being odd but he can't think of anyway. All he knows is that he's tired, a little groggy and he would like her to stay. He's pretty sure he's going to pass it from whatever it is they have him on right now – something Simmons would be able to tell him about in great detail, whatever it is – but he doesn't quite know how to say that to her.

Luckily for him he doesn't have to. Ever since he met the hacker he's had this feeling that she can read him in this strange way he doesn't quite understand (maybe she's just good at reading people; and that would be a good asset for SHIELD; nothing more and nothing less to him), and this is only reinforced by the fact that she sits back down on the seat she just vacated a minute ago.

"Thank you," he finally says, and when she teases him later about his being in debt to her he'll blame it on the drugs. He means it though.

She doesn't ask what for, and she doesn't say anything to it; only tilts her head ever so slightly and smiles at him, humming her tune as he closes his eyes and slips away into sleep once more.

But not before he feels a hand on top of his and he has to admit he had forgotten, until this moment, in the haze between being awake and asleep, how comforting one simple touch can be.


End file.
